


Graveside Grief

by AmiMendal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cemetery, Drabble, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, No Dialogue, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmiMendal/pseuds/AmiMendal
Summary: Ginny finds Draco visiting a grave. (prompt from OTP prompt generator) Short drabble
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 9





	Graveside Grief

She set a bundle of overgrown sunflowers on the top of Fred’s tombstone. Her fingers traced the letters of his name, slight tremors overtaking her when she felt the date of death. Most people visited on birthdays or around the holidays, but Ginny always felt compelled on the 13th of the month - it was his favorite number, anyway.

The wind picked up, snatching leaves from the ground and whipping through her hair. She loved when that happened; it felt like he was there with her again, tugging on her pigtails and tickling her sides. It made everything feel alright again.

She was sure she’d said something to his tombstone - she usually did, though she could never remember what it was. Here, in the quiet of the cemetery, her innermost thoughts could be purged. Her emotions and stress went to him, releasing her from the turmoil that raged within. The sun began its quick descent, rays casting dark shadows across the ground and allowing the autumn chill to sneak into her bones. Before the night claimed her, a shining beacon caught her eye from the farthest corner of the cemetery. A bright head of blond hair peeked out from a dark cloak, sometimes nodding, sometimes shaking, but certainly in a long-winded conversation with another tombstone.

Unable to help her rising curiosity, Ginny said her final good-byes and kept her brown eyes on the animated figure, crunching each red-tinged leaf with her foot with great satisfaction. She leaned against the wrought iron gate, arms crossed in both a fight against the cold weather and an effort at indifference. The sun was truly set by the time she was joined by near-silent footsteps.

Her eyes met his, a spark of realization and respect passed between them. She saw the corner of his mouth tick - was that an attempt at a smile? Or was the cold getting to him, too? Rubbing her hands against her forearms, she took slow steps out of the cemetery. He followed silently.

After a safe distance, she let her arms fall, and found herself grasping his hand. Fingers pried his fist open, the leather of his gloves soft against her bare skin. She gave him a gentle squeeze.

_ I see you. I know you. I understand. _

The gray of his eyes sparkled. He squeezed back twice.

_ Thank you. _

Without a word exchanged between them, the reassurance each felt was one of overwhelming comfort. Life has love and death and loss. We feel sad and alone, but together?

We love together. We lose together. We feel the world together. And together, the world doesn’t feel so big. It doesn’t feel so lonely. 

Together, it feels like home.


End file.
